I wiped my face quickly and tried to stand, my legs trembling beneath me.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “Just give me a minute.”
“Of course,” she said gently. No pressure. Just care.
I sat there a little longer, one hand clutching a baby sock like it might anchor me to the present.
This is now, I reminded myself.You’re not there anymore.
But some days,therestill finds me.
I managed to stand after a while. My legs still felt like jelly and my throat burned from trying to keep it together. I foldedthe last onesie with unsteady hands and placed it in the drawer, even though the corner poked out unevenly.
When I stepped into the hallway, Madison was leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded over her round belly, eyes soft but searching.
“Hey,” she said.
I nodded. “Hey.”
She didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t need to. Madison had known me long enough to tell when I’d shut down, even before I admitted anything out loud.
“Do you want tea or something stronger?” she offered with a half-smile.
“I think just… quiet.”
“Quiet I can do.”
We padded into the living room. She lowered herself onto the couch slowly, with the grace of someone seven months pregnant and over it. I sank beside her, curling my knees up. The silence stretched between us like an old quilt, worn but warm.
Madison rubbed her belly in slow, absent circles. “Was it a memory?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “One I thought I could keep buried.”
Madison exhaled, resting her head against the cushion. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But you don’t have to protect me from your past either.”
I swallowed. “It’s not about protecting you. It’s… sometimes I think if I talk about it, I’ll make it real again.”
“But itwasreal,” she said softly. “You went through hell, Bee. Talking doesn’t bring it back, it just keeps it from stayingin your bones.”
I let her words settle. Madison wasn’t the type to push. She gave space but stayed rooted, like the mossy trees that lined our hometown roads. Maybe that’s why I’d come back here. Not for nostalgia, but for her.
“I saw him,” I whispered. “Well… not really. Just someone who looked like him. And suddenly I was back in that room, in his office, like I couldn’t breathe.”
Madison turned to face me, her eyes damp. “I hate what happened to you. And I hate that he gets to live in your head rent-free.”
I gave a weak laugh. “Yeah. He owes me at least six months of therapy bills and a whole new nervous system.”
We sat in silence a moment longer, until she reached for my hand and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze.
“Whatever you need, I’m here, no expiration date. No limit. Just me.”
And at that moment, the air didn’t feel so heavy. The past still lingered, sure.But the present was soft and steady, and sometimes, that was enough.
Chapter 11
Blair
The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the baby monitor and the occasional creak of old floorboards beneath my feet. Madison had gone to bed hours ago, exhaustion practically pulling her under after another long day of shopping and baby prep. I stayed up, curled into the oversized armchair in her living room, a cup of tea cooling in my hands and a notebook resting in my lap.
